


Wild Horses

by roruna



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991)
Genre: Adoption, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blushing, Canon Compliant, Crying, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, I Made Myself Cry, Implied Relationships, Pre-Relationship, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23455306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roruna/pseuds/roruna
Summary: "Wild horses couldn't drag me away." While recovering from the injuries he got fighting Taurus Bulba, Darkwing realizes that he can't forget about the girl who finally gave him a life worth risking. He wants Gosalyn to be his daughter and he'll do everything he can to make it happen. (It's the bit between Darkwing getting blown up and adopting Gosalyn at the end of the pilot episode).
Relationships: Drake Mallard & Gosalyn Mallard, Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack
Comments: 16
Kudos: 75





	Wild Horses

**Author's Note:**

> So I titled this fic "wild horses" because I was listening to The Sundays cover on repeat the whole time I wrote this and the song seems appropriate to the lengths Darkwing went to to adopt Gosalyn.  
> I'll also admit that I cried multiple times while writing this and it had nothing to do with my daddy issues!

Taurus Bulba had underestimated him. The cops underestimated him. Heck, even he'd underestimated himself. But he'd done good. The Waddlemayer Ramrod was destroyed. Bulba was stopped. 

Gosalyn was safe.

That was all that really mattered. Even as fire filled his vision and the explosion made his ears ring, all Darkwing cared about was that Gosalyn was okay. Launchpad would have to keep out of range of any shrapnel. And fly her back to the orphanage… Wait. Did Launchpad know that Gosalyn was an orphan? 

Darkwing plunged into the ice cold water of the bay. The impact would have knocked the air out of him if the shock wave of the ramrod explosion hadn't done it already. His eyes fluttered open. The lights of the city above wavered and bent through the water. 

"Gos-"

His mouth filled with sea water and his vision filled with darkness. 

_Gosalyn…_

Paramedics wrapped Gosalyn up in a blanket. Well, they _tried._

"We have to find Darkwing!" She screamed, leaping out of the back of the waiting ambulance. 

"Please, sit down, sweetie," a paramedic said, nudging her back.

"Don't call me sweetie," she said, kicking the paramedic in the shin.

"Ow! Why you little-"

She didn't stick around to hear the rest. She ran towards the burning building but was stopped by a couple of uniformed officers.

"Whoa there, little lady," one cop said in a warm paternal voice. "You don't wanna get any closer. That building's coming down any second."

"Where's Darkwing?" She demanded. 

She tried to squeeze past the cops but they kept blocking her path. 

"Who?" the other officer asked. 

"Darkwing Duck! He stopped Taurus Bulba! He saved me! You have to find him, please!" She cried. 

And she really did cry. She could feel tears burning her cheeks. 

"Honey, if he was in that explosion-" the other cop began. 

"No! Shut up! He's not dead! He's _not_ dead!" She screamed. "He's a superhero. He stopped the bad guys and saved the girl and now he's supposed to…"

She sank to her knees. Her chest and throat were too tight. More tears fell. He was supposed to defy the odds. Any second, he'd step out of the shadows and say something dorky but dramatic. Then he'd ride off into the sunset to fight evil another day… and she'd still never see him again. 

The first adult since grandpa died who understood her was gone from her life. But she would have preferred that he said goodbye and left than died. 

"Hey, did we get a missing child report that kinda…?" One officer asked the other.

"Oh right," the officer replied. "Gosalyn Waddlemayer?"

"What?" She sniffled. 

Neither officer answered her. One spoke into his radio.

"We just located the little girl that was reported missing yesterday," he said. 

"Roger, we'll send a couple of officers to take her to the station," dispatch replied. 

"Okay, honey, we're going to take you down to the station and someone will pick you up and take you home," the officer told her.

"But…"

"It's okay, it's all over now," the other officer said. 

Of course, Launchpad hadn't wanted to just leave her but the little girl was being seen by a doctor just in case. Anyway, he had a hunch but he didn't want to get her hopes up and then see if he was wrong. He flew low over the water. He'd been in enough crashes to know that some explosions can leave you pretty far from the crash site sometimes. 

Besides, DW was smart. He would have known to jump for the water. So Launchpad turned on the Thunderquack's headlights and looked for any sign of the duck knight. He saw something dark and round bobbing in the water. The hat! DW had to be close. He switched on the PA.

"DW? You there? Darkwing Duck, can you hear me?"

He flew in tighter circles over the floating hat. Where could he be? Hang on. The hat might not have stayed on the whole time. He widened the circle. 

"DW, if you can hear me, give me a sign!"

A tiny flash of white caught his eye. In the dark, it was easy to miss but on the shore, there was something that could easily be a hand. In the Thunderquack's lights, it was certain. Darkwing had washed up on the shore. Launchpad landed the Thunderquack and it half sank into the wet sand. 

"DW!" He exclaimed, running out of the plane. 

Up close, he could see Darkwing wasn't breathing. Okay… so he'd have to give his hero mouth to mouth. No big deal. He was just a fan doing what needed to be done. No. A _sidekick_ doing what needed to be done. 

So how did it go? Three puffs of air and two chest compressions or was it the other way around? Whatever. Their beaks met. Launchpad ignored the little flutter in his stomach. Four puffs of air and six chest compressions later, Darkwing coughed and threw up sea water. 

"You're ok," Launchpad said, rubbing Darkwing's back. 

"G-gosa…" he croaked. "Where's Gosalyn?"

"She's fine, I left her with the paramedics," he assured him.

"C'mon," Darkwing said, struggling to his feet. 

Something twinged and Darkwing cried out in pain. His legs buckled.

"Whoa, I gotcha, DW," Launchpad said, scooping him up in his arms. 

There was no sign of Gosalyn when Launchpad took Darkwing to the paramedics. But she left an impression. One paramedic used quite colorful language to describe her.

"Anyway, she ran off towards the fire," he huffed.

"Right," Darkwing said. 

He stood up for a second and yelped. Launchpad nudged him back to the ambulance. 

"Settle down, DW," he said. "I'll look for her. You just let the doctors do their thing-"

"No, I have to find her," he insisted.

"You can't even walk, just let me help you," he pleaded. 

Darkwing hesitated. He was caught completely off guard by Launchpad's open, honest face. 

"Let me help you," he repeated. 

"Okay," Darkwing said. 

Launchpad returned with a report that Gosalyn had been taken to the closest police station. 

"She should be okay there," Darkwing said though he didn't sound convinced. 

"We could stop by, she was really upset about the explosion," Launchpad said.

"You're not going anywhere except the hospital," the paramedic said before Darkwing could stand. "You need x-rays and a CAT scan."

"But-"

"It's okay, DW," Launchpad assured him. "We can go once the doctor gives you the go ahead. The cops will keep her safe."

Darkwing nodded weakly. They'd call the orphanage, assuming they hadn't already filed a missing person's report, and Gosalyn would be back home by morning. Well, back at the orphanage anyway. It could never be a home for her. Home had been with her grandfather but that monster, Taurus Bulba, had taken that from her. The point was that she was fine. Her life could go back to normal. She didn't need Darkwing Duck anymore. And Darkwing _certainly_ didn't need her.

Darkwing had fallen asleep on the ambulance ride and woke up in a hospital bed. The room was cold, literally and color scheme-wise. His arms and legs were in casts and held in midair with slings. His head was bandaged up too. He turned his head carefully to look around and found himself alone. 

He was relieved but there was a slight twinge of disappointment. It was for the best, honestly. Darkwing Duck worked alone. He always had. He would again. But things were different now. He couldn't deny that. He finally had something real to fight for, something more concrete than fame. 

No matter how much time passed, he'd never stop fighting for her. To make the world a better place for Gosalyn to live in, to be a hero she could be proud of, to make sure no other kid suffered the way she had. Even if he never saw her again, he'd never forget her. Her spirit was too strong to forget. 

His chest tightened and his nose stuffed up. 

"So the implacable Darkwing Duck has found his heart," he said aloud. "And though it leaves him vulnerable, that heart ensures that lone crusader will never waver from the side of justice-"

"I'm back," Launchpad said, pushing the door open with his hip.

Darkwing flinched and then his body complained. He gritted his teeth, trying to subdue the pain through will power alone.

"I brought some flowers," Launchpad explained. "Thought the place could use some color."

"Yeah," he said, reclining back. "How long was I out?"

"Like a day," Launchpad answered. 

That was too long. 

"I gotta get out of here," Darkwing said. "I need to see for myself that she's okay."

He'd expected Launchpad to argue, to tell him to wait until he recovered but instead, he nodded. 

The halls were empty but the waiting rooms were pretty busy. The doctors and nurses were definitely more occupied with treating patients than they were about keeping Darkwing inside. Launchpad ran, pushing the wheelchair holding Darkwing anyway. 

They skidded into the hospital parking lot and slammed into the nearest car. The car alarm blared. 

"Launchpad!" He chided.

"Sorry, DW," he replied. 

"Can you not crash for five minutes?" He demanded. 

"That was barely a crash," Launchpad replied. 

The Ratcatcher was parked alone in the motorcycle parking row. 

"Gimme the keys," Darkwing ordered. 

"Seriously?" Launchpad asked. 

"I'm not letting you drive my motorcycle again after what happened last time," he snapped. "Anyway, you don't even know where we're going."

Launchpad probably would have crashed less than Darkwing did on the drive to the St. Canard orphanage. Turns out that steering and keeping a steady speed wasn't easy when you didn't have full use of your arms and legs. They crashed into their fourth lamppost as they reached the orphanage. 

"Fine, you can drive us back," Darkwing said before Launchpad could say anything. 

Darkwing parked halfway up the sidewalk across the street from the orphanage playground. It was about noon so the kids should be getting out for lunch. He'd just catch a glimpse of her, finally see that she was just fine and get the closure he needed. 

The lunch bell rang. Children of various ages poured into the playground. Darkwing's heart skipped a beat when he saw that flash of red hair. Gosalyn walked with her shoulders hunched and her arms crossed. A bigger kid ran past her, almost knocking her down but she didn't even notice. She trudged to an empty bench in the shade.

Even sitting on a bench, she pulled her legs up and hugged her knees. Her head jolted briefly and that's when Darkwing realized she was crying. Gosalyn was _crying._ She was safe and she was back where she was supposed to be but she was crying softly and quietly, just to herself. A full blown tantrum would have been better. 

"Gosalyn…" he breathed. 

"Did you wanna go inside?" Launchpad asked. "Think it's like prison where you get visiting hours?"

Darkwing was yanked back to reality.

"Uh… no. Let's go back before the hospital staff notice I'm gone," he said but didn't move out of the driver's seat or start the engine. 

He couldn't take his eyes off her. She was _miserable._ He didn't know she could look so unhappy. So on top of everything else, Taurus Bulba snuffed out her spirit too. Or was it this place? How could any kid keep their spirit in the double whammy of school but no place to call home? 

"I have to get her out there," he said and was surprised he said it out loud. 

"I'm not a law expert but that kinda sounds like kidnapping," Launchpad said. 

Darkwing laughed without thinking. This wasn't a great place for a kid but it's not like he could give her any better. Living on a bridge, surrounded by chemistry sets and gadgets, with a nut that thought running around at night wearing a mask and cape was a good idea for a good time. What kind of life was that for a kid?

"I'll just…" he floundered. "I dunno, find her some nice parents…"

Parents who didn't just tolerate her spirit but love her for it. Parents who helped her be who she was but didn't let her get away with murder. Parents who knew their lives were better because they had Gosalyn in it. Parents who loved her as much as...

"DW?" 

"Shut up. You're crying," he accused, wiping his face roughly. 

He finally climbed out of the driver's seat. Okay, he fell out of the driver's seat. Launchpad placed him carefully in the sidecar and drove them back to the hospital without saying a word. 

That night, Darkwing couldn't sleep. He told himself that it was because of the uncomfortable position and because he'd been out for so long already but that wasn't it. His mind kept circling back to Gosalyn and that look of despair. 

Okay, so parental candidates… who did he know? Muggers? Mugging victims? Cops… Launchpad. Well, he might not be so bad. So long as he never drove her anywhere. Maybe not. Darkwing tried to imagine what sort of people would be the best for her. Someone who was smart enough not to let her run rings around them. Someone who had a bit of troublemaker in them too. 

Even now, the thought of her going off to live in the suburbs, going to a normal school, making friends that would stick around, and calling someone 'dad' made his heart twinge. Especially when he imagined her saying "dad". 

_"Dad, you need to sign this permission slip."_

_"Dad, can I have a slumber party on Friday?"_

_"Dad, I got into Yarvard!"_

He wasn't crying. You're crying! And he certainly wasn't daydreaming about being Gosalyn's father! He wasn't imagining painting her room or checking her homework or… tucking her in at night. No. _No!_

Even if he wanted to adopt her, even if he wanted to be Gosalyn's father… not just anyone's father, it wasn't kids that he wanted. He needed Gosalyn-

 _No…_ He did _not_ need Gosalyn. He didn't need anyone. But even if he did and that was a Big If, he couldn't be her father. He spent his nights chasing criminals and his days asleep in a secret lair. He couldn't raise a cactus, much less a child. But...

"Just go to sleep," he told himself. 

The hospital discharged him the following week and only after he called Launchpad to pick him up. He was still bandaged up and just a tiny bit loopy from the painkillers. 

"So where to, DW?" Launchpad asked. "I can take you back to my place. Plenty of room in the hangar."

"Just drop me off at the Autobahn Bay bridge," Darkwing said. 

"I'm not just leaving you by yourself," he replied. "The doctor gave me this long list of instructions for taking care of you."

"I don't need you to take care of me," he insisted. 

"DW, you're still injured. Anyone would need help in your condition," Launchpad reminded him. 

"Why are you doing this? Why do you want to help me so much?" He asked. 

"Well, I'm your sidekick, aren't I? And I wanna help you. Honestly, chasing you around on your adventure was the happiest I've been in a long time," Launchpad said, glancing away. 

Darkwing blushed. Launchpad did too. What a strange turn his life suddenly took. 

"You know," Darkwing said. "When I was in jail, that was the lowest I've ever been. And when you showed up, it was like a lifeline. I would've been lost without you."

Now Launchpad's face turned much redder. They didn't speak for the rest of the drive to the bridge. Once they were on the bridge, Darkwing gave Launchpad directions to get into his hideout. They'd only just parked the Ratcatcher when Darkwing noticed something off.

The timer in his kitchen was turned half a centimeter. Also a small, elderly goose in a suit was sitting at the table. He stood up. 

"Ah, you must be Darkwing Duck," the goose said, offering Darkwing a business card from his jacket pocket. 

"J. Gander Hooter, SHUSH director," Darkwing read.

“We’ve had our eyes on you for quite some time,” Hooter said.

“Really?” He squeaked. Darkwing cleared his throat, in a deeper voice, he said, “and why would that be?”

“It’s SHUSH policy to observe known vigilantes; you, Gizmoduck, the Duck Avenger are all under observation by my agents,” he answered. 

“Oh,” he said. 

“I read about your run in with Taurus Bulba and I was rather impressed,” Hooter said. “A lot of good agents lost their lives protecting Professor Waddlemayer-”

“Good job there,” Darkwing muttered.

“And it took an elite squad to finally bring him into custody,” Hooter continued, not seeming to notice Darkwing’s words. 

“Hyep, yep, yep,” Darkwing sighed. “Bulba’s no slouch.”

“Neither are you,” Hooter replied. “We thought the arming code was lost with the professor. We never would have guessed he hid it in his granddaughter’s lullaby.”

Darkwing’s ego deflated at the mention of Gosalyn. Then rage burned his blood suddenly.

“Well, we wouldn’t have needed to get to this point if your agents had done their job properly in the first place,” he snapped. “Gosalyn’s an orphan thanks to you and the poor kid was nearly killed! If you ask me, it’s not me that you should be talking to. You should be at that orphanage right now, telling that girl that _you_ ruined her life.”

Hooter blinked. He wasn’t just surprised that Darkwing talked to him that way, he’d probably never had anyone raise their voice at him since he’d become director. He took a breath to compose himself and nodded.

“You’re right, of course,” he said. “SHUSH does have a habit of focusing entirely on the big picture. It was careless to miss the little picture.”

Embarrassment took over where anger had been. Darkwing probably shouldn’t have yelled at Hooter like that…

“But it’s precisely your unique way of seeing things that’s brought me here today,” Hooter continued. 

“You want me to be an agent?” Darkwing asked.

“Of course not,” Hooter chuckled. “I mean, I’m offering a freelance position. We’d call you in for missions that require something that full time agents might not have available but the rest of the time, you’re free to continue your crime fighting however you like.”

“DW,” Launchpad said. “This is great. You’ll love working for SHUSH, it’s fun.”

“Ah yes, I remember you now,” Hooter said to Launchpad. “No longer working in Duckburg then?”

Darkwing blinked. SHUSH seemed to be some secret super spy organization and _Launchpad_ used to work for them?

“How did… why did…?” he stammered. 

“So what do you say, Darkwing?” Hooter asked. “Are you interested in the job? You will be well compensated for your work, obviously.”

 _Job…_ Darkwing’s mind went blank but when he returned to reality, his mind was going a mile a minute.

“I want a monthly paycheck,” he said suddenly. “And… benefits. Medical, vision, dental.”

“Ah, well, we’ll have to provide some additional duties,” Hooter said. “Dr Bellum was asking for more testers…”

“That’s fine,” Darkwing said, not bothering to ask who Dr Bellum was or what sort of tests he’d be doing. “Oh um… can you guys also like… create a whole job history? The last job on my resume was bagger at a grocery store.”

“I suppose…” Hooter answered. “We do have a number of cover organizations. But why-?”

“Thanks, look forward to working with you,” Darkwing exclaimed.

The following day, a dour bear in a suit turned up with a thick envelope for Darkwing. As soon as Darkwing signed for the envelope, the bear was gone. Launchpad looked over his shoulder while he opened the envelope. It contained a new driver’s license and passport with issue dates of five years earlier. The address on the license was for Launchpad’s place. The envelope also contained a copy of his lease agreement. Three insurance cards, for medical, dental and vision, respectively. A checkbook and debit card for St. Canard Credit Union and account statements going back three years. And finally, a resume listing every job he’d ‘had’ from his high school job at the grocery store until now. According to the resume, he worked for **S** eville, **H** arris and **U** mbre **S** anitation and **H** ealth. Well… Darkwing Duck didn’t actually. 

Everything, the license, the insurance cards, the checkbook, the resume, all of it was issued to a name he hadn’t used for so long, he almost forgot he had it. He didn’t remember telling J. Gander his real name. Those agents of his were thorough. 

“Drake Mallard,” Launchpad read aloud. “That’s a nice name.”

Drake sat across the desk of a county social worker. His hands were shaking while this stern looking woman reviewed his initial application. 

"Sanitation and health," she muttered. "So you're a garbage collector? That's rather hazardous."

"Oh no, I work in the billing department," he said. 

She nodded and made a brief note in her copy of his paperwork. 

"So are the bandages from a work related injury?" She asked. 

"No, that was from an accident at home," he said. "I don't actually live there anymore. I've been living with a friend while I save up for a down payment on a house."

"Seems like you have a lot going on," she said, adding a longer note.

He gulped. Maybe he should have brought Launchpad with him. But even while providing moral support, he was just as likely to put his foot in his mouth and ruin everything. 

"You're not married," she said, looking over the paperwork. 

"Is that a problem?" He asked, tensing up.

"Not necessarily," she said. "There's no legal requirement for only married couples to adopt. Obviously most children these days live in single parent homes but that does add complications. I don't mean childcare while you're at work though. I'm concerned about how you would handle your social life as a single parent."

"You mean I shouldn't date?" He asked, half embarrassed and half annoyed. 

"That's not what I mean," she said more gently. "I do want to press upon you that the children in our system have been through a lot. They're in our care because of deaths, abandonment, even legal trouble. They need stability. They don't need to compete with another adult for their parent's attention. They don't need to get attached to someone who might disappear because things didn't work out with their parent. They don't need to worry that their parent might get married, have a child of their own and replace them."

As if some baby could match Gosalyn Waddlemayer. But it was worth considering. 

"Okay," he said. "I get it. Honestly, I haven't been in a relationship in a long time."

Launchpad's face popped into his mind, uninvited. 

"So why do you want to adopt?" She asked bluntly. 

"I let my work dominate my life for a long time. But recently, I realized that work by itself didn't make a life. No one would miss me when I'm gone. No one would actually _notice_ I was gone."

"I suppose your little accident had something to do with that," she said. 

"A little," he admitted. "But even before this, I knew I didn't have a life worth risking. I'd come home to an empty house and never spoke to anyone except at work."

Okay, that _might_ be making him sound worse. 

"I just… I know I want to be a dad. More than I want to get married or have friends or anything else. I can't stop thinking about moments I'd share with her- a child. Tucking them in at night, eating breakfast together," he said, smiling at the memory. 

The social worker's face softened. Just a little bit. 

"I'm sorry I can't explain it better. I… I want my kid," he confessed. 

He couldn't hide the desperation, the fear. Who was he kidding? He'd make a terrible father! His job was dangerous. He had no social skills. Men weren't supposed to care about children and if they did, it was suspicious. He'd make a better serial killer than a parent. 

She was going to say no. He could tell. And Gosalyn would be stuck saying goodbye to every friend she made for who knows how long! She'd either age out of the system full of bitterness or someone else would take her away and she'd forget him. This woman sitting across from him was about to break his heart. He'd _never_ see Gosalyn again. _Please don't take her from me. I can't lose her again._

"All right, Mr. Mallard," she said, signing the bottom of a document. 

She took a thick binder from a desk drawer. The binder was full of photographs of the children currently in the St. Canard orphanage with relevant background details. 

"If you were interested in adopting a baby-"

"Nope," he said, snatching the binder. "I-I'd rather skip the potty training."

He laughed weakly. Oh no, what if she changed her mind?!

"I was going to say, babies and toddlers tend to get adopted first so there's a long waiting period. The older the child, the longer they tend to stay with us so I would encourage you to consider an older child first," she said. 

"Right, right," he said, leafing through the binder.

Were they in alphabetical order or age or based on when they got there or what? He barely looked at the pictures and would only slow down when he saw red hair just long enough to find out it wasn't her. He went through the whole binder and didn't find her. 

Had he gone too fast? What if someone else had adopted her already? He swallowed the growing panic and read the pages again more carefully. The pictures were the sort you get every school picture day; a kid smiling at the camera sitting in front of some improbable background like a sunset or outer space. 

He found her background information but no photo. It was her though. Gosalyn Waddlemayer, age ten, been at the orphanage for a year, parents deceased. It was a weird stroke of luck that the missing photo could let him ask about her without drawing suspicion.

"There's a picture missing," he said, his voice was calm but his hands were shaking. 

_Calm down, you freak!_

"Oh," the social worker said, recognizing the name. "Our budget allows for just enough time for each child to get one shot at a picture and hers… didn't come out great."

The tables had suddenly turned and the social worker was the one looking awkward. 

"What? Was it blurry?" He asked. 

"N-no," she said. 

"Do you still have it? Can I see?" He asked. 

She sighed and nodded. She opened her desk drawer again and this time took out an overstuffed manila folder labeled Waddlemayer, G. The photo was at the top. Drake laughed when he saw it. She was pulling down her pigtails, her eyes were crossed and her tongue was stuck out. _Of course._

"I like it," he said, smiling at the picture. "I like her."

He _loved_ her but he couldn't exactly tell the social worker that.

"Okay, well, I'll tell you a little bit about her," she said, squaring her shoulders. "This folder contains all the disciplinary incidents she's had since she got here. We expect kids to act out in this situation but she holds the orphanage record for detentions. She snuck a pig into the boy's bathroom the other day. Also, she had already lost both parents and actually ended up with us after her grandfather's _murder."_

She paused to let the word 'murder' sink in.

"And recently, she was abducted by people connected to her grandfather's death. The police found her the next day and she wasn't hurt, thank goodness. So far she hasn't acted out but I suspect she'll only get worse. She was already a notorious troublemaker," she said. 

Drake's jaw clenched. He balled his good hand and had to take several deep breaths to avoid saying something he would regret. _She's not a troublemaker, you hag. She stands up for herself! And sure she acts impulsively but it's better than fading into the background! You can't focus on her the way she deserves but I can!_

"I'm not disparaging Gosalyn just to vent, Mr. Mallard," she said. "I need you to really consider whether you can commit to her the way she needs before she meets you. I don't want her to face rejection from someone who didn't know what they were getting into. She's suffered enough."

"She's not broken," he blurted out. "And she's not some wilting flower either. You're blaming her for your lack of resources and that's not fair. Of course she put a pig in the bathroom, how else would you even notice she exists? She fights back when she's under attack and she has a fire that might be intimidating but if you snuff it out, you'll kill the best part of her!"

His brain finally caught up with his mouth. He'd blown it. He slapped his hands over his bill. Even if she overlooked the fact that he lost his temper, she might get suspicious. 

"Well, that is definitely something to consider," she said coolly. "You'll have to excuse me, it's time for my next appointment."

Drake fell to his knees.

"Wait! No, please, I'm sorry for being rude, just give me another chance! I swear I would never ever _ever_ hurt Gosalyn, I just felt like I had to stand up for her, believe me," he begged. 

_Please don't take her from me._

"I appreciate the clarification but it really is time for my next appointment," she said. 

He wobbled to his feet before she thought about calling security to drag him out. He nodded once.

"Right, please let me know if there's anything I can do to improve my chances," he said. 

"Of course, Mr. Mallard."

Launchpad helped Drake into the car.

"So… how'd it go?" He asked.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Drake answered. 

"So, medium?"

Darkwing stayed in bed the following day, following the doctor's instructions for the first time since he'd been discharged. He palmed Gosalyn's photograph before he left and now he kept looking at it as if it might change. He smiled at the face she made. He could have lamented not getting a good photo but this one really documented her spirit as well as her face. He'd blown the interview but his mind already considered Gosalyn his little girl. 

_"Rest your head, little girl blue,"_ he sang softly. _"Come paint your dreams on your pillow. I'll be near, to chase away fear. So sleep now and dream til tomorrow."_

He drifted off to sleep with the photo over his heart. But he hardly got a chance to sleep because the phone rang for about a minute before Launchpad finally answered. With the place silent again, Darkwing tried to sleep but there was a knock at the bedroom door. 

"DW, you got a phone call," Launchpad announced just outside the door. 

"Just take a message, I'll call them back," he grumbled. 

"You sure? She says she's from the adoption agency-"

Darkwing rolled out of bed and flung the door open. He ran over Launchpad to reach the phone. 

"Hello? Hello?" He said desperately. 

"Mr. Mallard?" The social worker asked. 

"Yes! What can I do for you?" He asked. 

"I wanted to let you know that we've just heard back from the credit bureau. You have an excellent credit score, by the way. And we can continue to the next phase of the adoption. Did you still want to apply to adopt Gosalyn Waddlemayer?"

"Yes!" He exclaimed. "Absolutely!"

"Okay, we'll start the background check and I'll be stopping by for a home inspection," she said. 

"Oh, uh… I did say that I wasn't going to stay here. I talked to a realtor-"

"I understand," she said. "But a home inspection is standard procedure. If you do get a new house during the application process, we'll have to redo the inspection but it's a distinct possibility that Gosalyn might move into your current address, depending on how long it takes to process your application."

That was true. Even though he'd looked at house listings in the paper, he had planned to take Gosalyn with him to help pick the house. They could be living with Launchpad for weeks before moving into a new house. _Living with Launchpad for weeks…_

"Yeah, yup. Makes sense," he croaked. "So when is the inspection?"

"I'm afraid it has to be a surprise inspection," she said. 

"Sure, sure, no problem, sounds fun, can't wait," he rambled. "See you soon, bye!"

He slammed the phone down. 

"LAUNCHPAD!"

Darkwing paced the floor frantically. Well, he would have if not for all the broken bones.

"We need to get this place cleaned up and uh… baby proofed?" He floundered. 

"Sure, that won't be too hard-"

"You have several tons of metal with spinning blades in your yard!" Darkwing shrieked. "Gosalyn _shot_ me with my own security system within five minutes of setting foot in my hideout! She's going to hijack one of those planes and crash it into a mountain before dinnertime!"

That did sound like her… 

"We are so screwed!" Darkwing wailed. 

Bit dramatic but Launchpad understood the concern. 

"It'll be okay, DW," he assured him. "You need keys to start the planes and I keep those locked up in the main office."

He meant the ticket booth/guard shack that passed for an office. The keys hung on a cork board like cheap motel room keys.

"Where's your office key?"

Launchpad's face drained of color. Darkwing nodded snugly. 

"We can get a safe," Launchpad said.

"A combination safe," Darkwing insisted. 

They had to get groceries too. The only thing in the fridge was leftover hamburger hippo. That night, Launchpad made dinner. 

"Okay, so grilled chicken with spinach salad. Just the thing for a growing kid," he announced. 

Darkwing popped what he assumed was a cherry tomato in his mouth. It was _not._

"Why did you put jawbreakers in the salad?" He asked. 

"To add some color," Launchpad answered. 

"And uh… what's this sauce on the chicken?" Darkwing asked, getting a better understanding of Launchpad's culinary style. 

"Sweet and sour," he explained.

Darkwing took a bit. His eyes widened then narrowed again. 

"Is there a reason it tastes like melted sweet and sour gummy bears?"

"Is that not how you make sweet and sour sauce?"

"You know what, I'll cook."

Everything was actually ready when the social worker arrived for the surprise inspection. She smiled brightly and shook Drake's and Launchpad's hands as if she couldn't destroy their souls with one word. She looked over the covered living area of the hangar and nodded. 

"Well, let's get started," she said. 

She didn't actually say anything after that, only nodded and scribbled notes into her clipboard. Drake focused on keeping his breathing steady because it was better than wondering how to tell when you're having a heart attack.

She opened the fridge door.

"Plenty of fruits and vegetables, that's good," she said, finally taking pity on Drake. 

They followed her out to the yard. She stopped mid-step. Drake walked into her.

"So… who's the one who drives the motorcycle?" She asked. 

_They forgot the Ratcatcher!_ May day! May day! After making a fuss about hiding the Thunderquack at his hideout, how could Drake forget the Ratcatcher?

"Launchpad's!"

"What motorcycle?"

Drake glared at Launchpad. 

"Uh… oh _that_ motorcycle," Launchpad said. "Yeah, that's mine. DW's too responsible to own a deathtrap like that."

Drake gritted his teeth. 

"It's quite… dramatic," she said. "Aren't you worried it could get stolen?"

"Not really, I always keep the keys for it in the office safe, and the plane keys too by the way," he answered. "It's a combination safe and the combination is kept safe and sound in the ol' noggin."

He tapped his temple for emphasis. 

"I see," she said, making another note.

Launchpad leaned toward Drake when the social worker stepped away. 

"What's the combination again?" He asked out of the corner of his mouth. 

"36, 24, 36. Your measurements," Drake hissed. 

Drake followed after the social worker. Launchpad followed Drake. 

"So how long have you two known each other?" She asked. Just making conversation?

"Um… a couple weeks," Drake said. 

"And you're already living together?" She asked. "Why didn't you include your name on the application, Mr. McQuack?"

"Oh, we're not… we're not…" Drake babbled. "Launchpad's just a friend!"

Did she really expect her to believe that?

"Mr. Mallard," she said. "I did say that you aren't forbidden to date and it's good that you have a support system. We all want the same thing, what's best for Gosalyn. It's clear that you and Mr. McQuack aren't _just friends._ So it's better if you're frank with me so we can talk about it."

Drake deflated. 

"It's… complicated, that's all," he admitted. "I've only known Launchpad for a little while but he's supported me through all of this. I'm the only father Gosalyn would have but Launchpad is going to be as much a part of her life as I am and if anything ever happened to me, I want Launchpad to look after her."

"Okay," she said. "We'll update your file and do a background check for Launchpad McQuack too."

Darkwing and Launchpad sat on the couch, eating mashed potatoes directly from the pot after the social worker left.

"Think I ruined your chances?" Launchpad asked. 

"I dunno," Darkwing sighed. "Probably not. I probably blew it by lying about you."

"She seemed to approve of the place… at first," Launchpad offered. 

"As soon as I can drive the Ratcatcher, I'm just going to drive by the orphanage on my patrols and check on her. Just to see she's okay," he said. 

"Sounds a little bit stalker-ish," Launchpad said.

It was, wasn't it? Who was he kidding? If anyone else had thought of doing that, Darkwing would've set them on fire already. He leaned his head on Launchpad's shoulder. Launchpad shifted in his seat so he could put his arm around him. 

"It'll be ok," Launchpad said. "They'll see that you'd be the perfect dad for her and she'll be home before you know it."

But what if she wasn't? What if the orphanage and the social worker decided what he feared most? How could he go on after that? Would he snap and just snatch her off the street like he did the first time? Would he wither away to nothing, too depressed to even drink water? Best case scenario really was brooding on rooftops at night and stalking her. Yikes.

It was time for Drake's last appointment with the social worker. Last in the sense that they hadn't scheduled anything else but to Drake, it still felt ominous. Launchpad squeezed his shoulder on the drive. His smile promised that everything would be okay. Drake wished he could believe that. 

"Do you want me to go in with you?" Launchpad asked after helping Drake out of the car.

"No," he said. 

Drake didn't want Launchpad to see him have a meltdown. He walked slowly to the social worker's office and not just because of the bandages. He should probably just get it over with but he didn't want to live in a world without Gosalyn just yet. 

He couldn't put it off any longer. He stared at the closed office door for several minutes. After taking several deep breaths, which did nothing to slow his frantic heartbeat, he knocked. The social worker answered immediately. 

"Come on in," she said. "Have a seat."

He gulped and sat down. 

"We've finished all of our investigations and I've sent your application to Mrs. Cavanaugh at the St. Canard orphanage. She's scheduled your introduction to Gosalyn for 10 AM tomorrow," she said. 

Drake's brain switched off. 

"Huh?" He said. 

"You're in the home stretch," she reassured him. "You'll get to meet your daughter tomorrow and-"

…

…

…

Your daughter. 

His daughter. 

_My daughter._

Drake didn't hear anything after that. He had no idea what he said or how he got back to the car. Launchpad was already driving them home when Drake's brain kicked back on again. He was holding Mrs. Cavanaugh's business card with the time of his appointment written on the back. 

Drake and Launchpad circled the block of the St. Canard Orphanage looking for a place to park. Drake’s stomach was full of butterflies, moths and bees. His right arm was finally out of the cast but the rest of him was still wrapped up like a mummy. Maybe he should have waited until he was fully healed. But he couldn’t wait anymore. Every minute of the past six months would have been torture if he hadn’t had so much work to do. 

_It can still all fall apart!_ A manic and sadistic part of his brain reminded him. What if she didn't recognize him? What if she hated him for not keeping in touch? What if Mrs. Cavanaugh didn't approve of him?

"Ready to go in?" Launchpad asked. "I can drop you off at the door and keep looking for a spot."

"I think I'm going to throw up," Drake said. 

Which would be impressive since he hadn't eaten anything since his meeting yesterday. His head was killing him. Was it the head injury or the insomnia? The car stopped. 

"C'mon, DW, you don't want to keep Gosalyn waiting," Launchpad reminded me. 

Drake shook the whole walk to the office. He saw no sign of Gosalyn in the office and tried not to panic. Mrs. Cavanaugh shook his hand. 

"I've heard a lot about you, Mr. Mallard," she said. 

"Yes?"

"Sure, we're all very excited about Gosalyn finally getting a real home," she said. "You did still want to adopt _Gosalyn,_ right?"

"Uh yeah," Drake said. He hadn't lost sleep and feathers just to change his mind at the last second. 

"They did tell you about the pig, right?"

"Yes," he growled. "And the murder and the kidnapping. I _know_ that Gosalyn is a handful."

She stared at him, trying to figure out if he was for real. But after a while, she nodded and went for the door. 

"Well, I'll go get her," she said. 

Drake strained his hearing but couldn't catch much of the conversation between Mrs. Cavanaugh and Gosalyn. He didn't hear Gosalyn say a word.

_"Gosalyn honey, I know you've been through a lot but your life isn't over. Now can you try to show prospective parents a little more spirit?"_

_"Now there's a word I'm sick of."_

He remembered her tackling him with a hug when he'd pointed out her spirit. The office door opened again.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Mallard, Gosalyn isn't feeling well today. Maybe you can come back to see her another time," she said, closing the door behind her.

_I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the red tape you cannot cut! I am not letting you keep my daughter away from me anymore!_

"Oh really?" He said. "Oh I'm sorry to hear that."

She took a seat at her desk. 

"Honestly, it looks like you've seen better days yourself," she remarked. 

The office door creaked open by itself. A small head full of vibrant red hair peeked out. Huge green eyes watched him quizzically. Drake fell in love. 

"Oh, this was just a little kitchen accident," he said. 

Did she know it was him? She had to know. She _needed_ to know. 

"I have a little trouble making breakfast," he announced. 

_Please recognize me! Please remember me!_ He fidgeted with his head bandages. One slid down onto his bill. He wiggled his eyebrows to keep another just above his eyes. 

_"I always forget the milk,"_ he called. 

Gosalyn gasped. In that brief moment of recognition, she leaped from behind the office door and slammed into Drake's chest, knocking his chair back. 

"Watch the ribs, kid," he groaned.

"I thought you were-"

"Hah!" Drake said, feeling like himself for the first time in weeks. "No one can hurt Darkwing d-d-d-Drake Mallard."

He touched her cheek. She was real. It wasn't a dream. 

"I have to take care of myself, you know. Now that I'll have an adopted daughter to worry about," he said. He got to his feet. "Now if it's alright with Mrs. Cavanaugh, I thought we could go house hunting?"

"But how do you manage to drive in that condition?" She asked. 

"Oh, I have help," he explained.

His misplaced confidence in Launchpad seemed to summon him. Drake's sensible family car backed into the wall of Mrs. Cavanaugh's office and left a massive hole.

"Still having a little trouble with reverse," Launchpad chuckled. 

Gosalyn giggled. Drake sighed. And he'd been doing so well too. Launchpad hadn't crashed once since… huh. The hospital wheelchair, maybe? Whatever. Drake opened the rear car door and helped Gosalyn inside. He shut the door after her seatbelt clicked into place. 

He hurried into the front passenger seat. They needed to hurry and get out of there before anyone realized what a terrible mistake it was to let Darkwing adopt a child. 

"Bye, Mrs. Cavanaugh!" Gosalyn yelled out the window. "I'm going home!"

**Author's Note:**

> I know Launchpad's measurements aren't 36, 24, 36 but I couldn't find the actual numbers anywhere and I didn't want to waste time working it out. I just wanted to post this today. And though I could've used any other numbers for the safe combination, I got very attached to the idea of Darkwing having Launchpad's measurements memorized.  
> I've done it! I posted the first chapter of the 'sequel'! Enjoy: [Nesting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23814307/chapters/57218419)


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